


Excursion

by vesper_rose



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall - Fandom
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M, Paris (City), Travel, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2014-07-14
Packaged: 2018-02-08 18:25:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1951512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vesper_rose/pseuds/vesper_rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the 00Q Summer Exchange. Prompted by yuquiche on Tumblr - "Q goes on vacation and James insists that he comes along. Problem is, Q’s on vacation because he’s a magic user and his magic is going slightly out of control due to disuse and he was going to use the vacation to calm and recover. Preferably plenty of fluff."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Excursion

As Q was preparing to leave MI6 and Q branch on a Friday afternoon for a week’s vacation, none other than James Bond showed up. Bond had the slightly annoying habit of popping up in Q branch at inconvenient times. Frequently Q could see a smirk on Bond’s face during these spontaneous visits. Q usually took Bond’s visits in stride, but this particular time he was not having it. “Bond, you are aware that I’m leaving for a week tomorrow, aren’t you? This isn’t the best time; any questions or inappropriate comments can be left for R although I am very aware R isn’t half as handsome as I am, so those theoretical comments might take some people by surprise.”

            “That’s quite something from you, Q. Now may I ask where you’re off to in such a hurry?” Q glared at Bond as he tidied up his desk. “France. Nothing special. In fact, I expect the coming week will be as boring as any other one away from the office.”

“Ah, France. Are you off to feast on some crème brûlée? Some crossaints, macarons and French bread? Maybe you want a soufflé? Or do you plan on gazing dreamily at the Eiffel Tower?” Q sighed deeply and tried to shoo Bond out of the room. “What if I told you that it’s purely a trip for relaxation and nothing else? No fancy French dishes that I can’t even pronounce, much less spell. No gazing dreamily at a big point of metal; there’s no point in that anyway.” Q twitched slightly, knocking a pen to the floor. “Bond, leave now; you can pester R all you want in the coming week and I’ll be back in exactly seven days. That isn’t so long now, is it? You’ll live.” Bond pouted, his face almost begging to be brought along on Q’s trip. “No, I’m not bringing you, if that’s what that face is supposed to be asking,” Q said as he slammed a desk drawer shut. “Pouting more won’t make me change my mind, Bond. It just makes you look foolish, you know.”           

            “I can make all my own travel arrangements, Q, please, I won’t be a burden. Anyways, a week’s holiday doesn’t involve equipment so there’s nothing to be potentially destroyed, therefore, nothing for you to worry about.”

            “Bond, have you ever considered the concept of privacy? Personal space? The fact that I simply might want a week to myself away from the job? Is this really that hard for you to understand?”

            “I haven’t had off work in months either; I’m sure M will allow me a week off now, and won’t a trip be more fun with company?”

            “You really aren’t getting this, are you, Bond? I’m going home now, I’m going to pack and then I’m going to be off to France. And you are going to stay in rainy London pining away for your absent lover. How poetic. A bit of loneliness might do you good, for that matter.” Q was secretly amused at how insistently Bond wanted to come with him. He also was imagining how MI6 would gossip when Q left for France and Bond stayed behind with a gloomy mood that would be all too apparent. The man wasn’t as good at hiding his emotions as he liked to think he was; it would be even more obvious if he was angry about being left behind.

            Q slung his bag over his shoulder and began to head towards the exit. Bond didn’t follow, but Q wondered what he would do.

            Back at home, Q slipped off his shoes and pulled out a suitcase. He rummaged through his clothes and placed a week’s worth in the suitcase. There were no errant knocks on the door that could mean Bond had decided to pop up. Q twitched again, this time more strongly, accidentally flinging a shirt across the room. Q narrowed his eyes and went to snatch the shirt off the floor. He had been busy with work and Q branch, making sure everything ran smoothly, coming up with new ideas for gadgets, making sure Bond didn’t wreak too much havoc and cleaning up after him when he did. All those responsibilities left Q with minimal free time, time which he would use to casually practice magic. He still managed to get a little in when preparing food- the magic was very useful when it came to culinary matters. Q also liked how it saved time; there was no waiting hours for things to bake in the oven if he didn’t want to. With a few simple gestures and phrases he could bake himself a decadent cake or whatever his palate desired. In spite of this, Q could feel his grip on his magical powers loosening. The powers were getting restless, causing Q to inadvertently twitch and let loose small pulses of magic. These were usually manageable, but if Q didn’t use magic with enough frequency, they would become even more uncontrollable. It was beginning to get inconvenient; more than a few times he had accidentally flung pens through the air in Q branch. There was one unfortunate occasion when an inky cylindrical projectile happened to hit M on the head. Q had apologized profusely, although he wasn’t quite sure if M had accepted it. In light of those recent events, Q needed a break, alone, where he could devote some time to his supernatural powers. France seemed like a good choice; getting there didn’t involve flying.

            Q’s train for France left that night, meaning he’d arrive in Paris in about two hours. He left for the train station. Q arrived early at the station, meaning he would have to wait a bit longer for his train to come. He sat on a bench and opened up his laptop, intending to finish up a few things while he had the time. Focused on the screen, Q noticed someone sidle up to him. He turned his head and was presented with none other than James Bond. Bond had a suitcase beside him, as well as a self-satisfied grin on his face. “I bought myself a train ticket,” he said happily. Q scowled at Bond and stood up briskly. “Oh look. Train’s here. Goodbye.”

            Once on the train, Q selected a seat and placed his bag on the adjacent one, in hopes of goading Bond into sitting somewhere away from him. There was nothing Q could do about Bond’s choice to buy a train ticket on the very same train to France. Q decided the best option would be to ignore Bond completely, at least for the train ride. Perhaps upon arrival in France Q might want to speak with Bond.

            Despite Q’s rejections, Bond sat across from Q and tried to start a conversation. “Where are you staying in Paris, Q?” Q stared out the window, impatiently waiting for the train to start moving. “We can share a hotel room, you know. I’m sure you’d enjoy it, Q.” The train ride passed with a continual barrage of comments and teasing from Bond. Q twitched uncomfortably, anxious about his slightly unmanageable magic. Bond seemed too distracted with trying to catch Q’s attention to notice if anything was askew. Q clenched the edge of his seat and tried to avoid the urge to throw something at Bond. Upon arrival in Paris, Q purposefully dropped his suitcase on Bond’s foot. The shiny leather of Bond’s shoe was marred, and he thought he might’ve broken a toe. What _did_ that man keep in his suitcase?

            Bond followed Q to the hotel without hesitation. He waited calmly in the lobby while Q checked in. He followed Q up to his room. Once the door closed, Q burst out shouting loudly. “For the last time, Bond! You were absolutely not intended to come along with me! Yet your intractable self had the nerve to follow me all the way to Paris!” Q slammed the door to the bathroom, leaving Bond alone on the other side.

Splashing cold water over his face to calm and refresh himself, Q wondered what to do with the disobedient agent. Quietly opening the door, Q peeked out and saw Bond flipping through a magazine in front of the bed. Grabbing a shoe from his suitcase, Q walked up silently behind Bond and then hit him forcefully with the footwear. Q struck Bond a couple more times with the shoe for good measure. It was an excellent way of releasing anger; Bond was also now splayed out on the floor, unconscious. Q sat on the bed and smiled to himself. If he was feeling particularly vindictive, he might have dragged Bond’s limp body to the hall and left him outside the room’s door.

            As Bond lay unconscious, Q decided he might as well have some fun. A few hand motions later, Bond was suspended in the air near the ceiling. Q spun the man’s figure around, laughing quietly with amusement. After setting the agent down on the bed, Q thought to transform Bond into a kitten for a while. The man would have vague memory of the experience at best; in addition to an amusing experience for Q, it’d also take the responsibility of a slightly unpredictable agent off Q’s hands. A few moments later, a fluffy pale orange kitten was sleeping on the bed. Q clapped his hands and the kitten awoke, shaking its head in surprise.

            Conveniently, Q happened to have a laser pointer in his luggage. Q carried it in case he ever needed to make impromptu presentations and wanted to emphasize certain points. It also worked wonderfully as something to tease a kitten with. Bond scurried around the room, frantically chasing the pinpoint of light. Q coaxed the kitten into his lap, patting its head gently.

            Q began to feel hungry, prompting him to call room service for a meal. Bond sat on the bed next to Q, still in kitten form, purring softly. Q thought he might change Bond back into his human self sometime after the food was delivered, as they both had to eat. A knock on the door announced the meal’s arrival, and Q put Bond in the bathroom as he answered the door. Q set the tray on the bed and went to retrieve Bond from the bathroom, planning on returning him to human form.

            A somewhat dazed Bond sat on the bed, gazing bewilderedly at Q. “I feel strangely exhausted, Q. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that?” Q feigned ignorance and pointed at the dishes. “Eat,” he ordered Bond. “I’m your Quartermaster and I’m ordering you to eat.”

            “But… we aren’t working, so your authority doesn’t apply in this situation.”

            “Don’t question me, Bond, just eat.” Q resisted the urge to reach over and scratch under Bond’s chin.

            The food was appetizing; Q and Bond both enjoyed their meals, and then moved on to a dessert of decadent chocolate cake. “There’s only one clean fork left…” Q muttered. He considered conjuring up an additional utensil, but was interrupted with a timely remark from Bond. “We can share,” Bond said with a smirk. They fed each other chocolate cake, Bond ensuring that Q got most of the icing. Q had a special fondness for cake icing, and Bond had once caught Q eating it out of the jar at work.

            Q was growing sleepy and began to yawn. He removed his clothes and left them in a heap beside the bed. Then he pulled the sheets up around himself, leaving only a small portion for Bond. They snuggled in bed, a bed that was large enough for each of them to have plenty of space to themselves. Despite the abundance of bed, Bond insisted on cuddling up to Q near the edge of the bed. Sleepily, Q pushed Bond with his elbow in an attempt to get a little more space. “Let’s sleep in the middle of the bed, shall we?” he murmured quietly. They shifted positions and Q fell asleep to Bond ruffling his hair.

            In the morning, Q awoke to his own messy hair and sunlight streaming in through the window. Bond was already awake, reading a travel brochure he had picked up the previous day. “Rise and shine, Q, we’re going to see the Eiffel Tower today,” Bond said as he pointed at the brochure. Q rubbed his eyes and balked at Bond’s proposed plan. “I’m not much for sightseeing, Bond, but if you absolutely must you can go by yourself. I’m sure a handsome man like you won’t have any trouble finding another companion for the day if you so desire.” Bond pouted and pointed insistently at the brochure. “I didn’t invite you to Paris, Bond, and as much as I may have enjoyed last night’s meal, it doesn’t mean you get to drag me around the city like some kind of dog.”

            “But Q, it’s Paris and you simply can’t come here without seeing the Eiffel Tower.”

            “I can.” And with that, Q took out his laptop and began typing away at something Bond assumed was a project. Or maybe it was nothing of any importance and just something to pretend to be busy with so Q could get out of traipsing around the streets of Paris. “It says there’s a bakery right down the street from here,” Bond said, again indicating the brochure. “Have fun with that,” Q said indifferently. Bond dressed while Q continued typing.

            After the door closed and Bond had left, Q closed his laptop and settled back into bed. He was still a bit sleepy, probably as a result of the frequent late nights he spent awake, working or simply taking care of things related to his various side projects. Bond couldn’t hope to understand the multitudes of things Q managed to occupy himself with. There was always something to do, and if there wasn’t, Q would think of something new.

            Bond returned with a box of fragrant French pastries. Q perused them, picking out a fruit filled pastry to nibble on. “Mmm,” Q said with a mouthful of pastry. “These are delicious,” he mumbled. When they’d finished off the last crumbs of the sweet pastries, Bond mentioned that they would have to get some more later, and then even more to bring home with them. “Dozens of pastries, Q, they’re delicious.”

            “That many, and you could share them with the whole of MI6. Be reasonable, Bond. And do you think I’m going to put down ‘pastry purchases’ under the subject of what we spent all that money on? That is, if you bought them, which you’re not going to because I said so. We simply don’t need that many pastries.”

            “Tell M to take it out of my own salary, then, Q. They’re delicious and you want more as well, don’t lie.”

            “Very well. Go ahead, then.” Q motioned towards the door. Bond left once again and Q considered turning the man into a kitten again. It had been a rather adorable experience the first time. A short time later, Bond returned with more pastries. As soon as Bond had put the pastries down, he was a kitten for a second time. Q realized his powers seemed tamer, easier to control, even requiring a little more focus than usual. Maybe all the sugar from the pastries was affecting his concentration. A few minutes later and Bond was once again human, once again slightly confused as to the events of the past few moments. Bond looked at Q questioningly, then to the pastries. “Pastries, I remember now,” he said contentedly.

            They fed each other pastries, crumbs falling on the floor, pastry fillings spotting their faces. “You could get used to this, couldn’t you?” Q asked. “Paris, pastries, you… I couldn’t ask for more,” Bond replied. “We go back to London next Friday, remember. This is temporary and I most certainly won’t be having you feed me pastries in bed back home,” Q reminded Bond. If it wasn’t for his job, Q would have been more than pleased with Bond feeding him pastries in bed back in London. He just thought that showing up half an hour late to work with pastry filling on his face would be rather unprofessional.

            The rest of their time off passed quickly, more quickly than either of them wanted it to. Q had come to appreciate Bond’s presence after a short while, possibly having to do with the fact that Q could change Bond into a kitten as he pleased.

            Before they boarded the train back to London, Bond made sure to purchase enough pastries to last the two of them a month, or enough to feed the whole of MI6 for a week. Q smiled as Bond fumbled with the many boxes of pastries, trying not to drop any.

            “So, Q, we should do that again soon, shouldn’t we?” Bond asked as they parted ways back in London. “We do have jobs, you know. Jobs that don’t entail pastry eating in Paris.” Q paused. “Well, yours might entail that. Mine doesn’t. I simply overlook your potential future Parisian pastry eating adventures and make sure you don’t spend too much. And that you bring some back for me.” Q waved to Bond as he set off for his home, a few boxes of pastries under his arm. The trip had been a surprisingly pleasant one; Q had enjoyed himself. Q didn’t think he’d need another one too soon, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t something in the back of his mind. Maybe in a few months he’d have an excuse again…


End file.
